moving out

The boss and I spent several hours today packing our things up and moving out. Since we worked in an old building, Mido, there were no elevators: we boxed our stuff up, used my hand truck to cart everything to the edge of the stairwell (second floor), then manually took everything down the stairs and out the back door, one or two boxes (and bags) at a time. The boss had illegally parked his SUV close to Mido's back entrance, so it wasn't a far walk to ferry the boxes to the vehicle. But we're still not done: we're coming back tomorrow to gather up the rest of our office possessions—the ones that don't belong to the company. I now have ten boxes of crap in my studio, and no real room for it all, so over the lunar new-year break, I'm going to have to create some room, which will mean throwing out a lot of old, unused crap.

(No, not books. Never books.)

I somehow managed to go up and down the stairs God-knows-how-many times today without passing out, which is a miracle considering I was close to passing out yesterday after climbing stairs inside subway stations (I dropped off my nearly twenty-ish cardboard boxes at the office last night, having forgotten that I had so many, and how heavy twenty cardboard boxes can be when you've got heart problems; I brought the hand truck—also heavy—this morning).